


Repentance

by Zaxal



Series: Kinktober 2018 [9]
Category: Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bondage, Breast Fucking, Dom/sub, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 11:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaxal/pseuds/Zaxal
Summary: For Kinktober Day 9: Titfucking / Bondage / Lingerie.





	Repentance

**Author's Note:**

> i've never finished anything on time in my life, and i'm not about to start now.

The restraints are tight around his wrists and ankles, padded leather creaking as he shifts in the chair. There’s not a lot of give, and there’s even less leverage to move. Not that he wants to move. He’s quite content being where he is, thank you very much.

It helps that the view is fucking stunning.

Beatrice stands before him, bathed in the warm lamp light. Auburn hair curls down to her mid back, a thin, red robe teasing the lacy bra beneath. Her thick, cream-colored thighs are framed perfectly by the sheer stockings that come up above her knees and the modest black boxer shorts that Benedick is dying to grab with his teeth and pull down.

She’s gorgeous. She’d be gorgeous if she was wearing absolutely nothing, and she’d be gorgeous if Benedick could not see her at all. She enthralls him just by existing, and it’s a wonder he ever managed to escape that spell when he wants nothing more now than to indulge in it for the rest of his life.

“You’re staring,” she says, almost accusing.

“I have nowhere else to look.”

“There’s a perfectly good window just over there.”

Benedick smirks. The blinds are closed, naturally, but where’s the fun in pointing that out? “So there is. But the moon has come down from the skies and stands before me. What else has the night worth seeing?”

She sighs heavily. “You won’t apologize.”

“Name my sins, my lady.” He shrugs. “If you can — I don’t believe there’s much to be found.”

Beatrice’s plush lips tilt into a smile, and she approaches slowly, each step deliberate. “You have pride — you think far too highly of yourself and think your idle words mean anything to anyone with a brain.” The next step, he has to tilt his head back to keep his eyes locked with hers. “Envy, I don’t doubt, for the men who have come before you and have served me better than you ever will.”

His breath catches in his throat, the gentle humiliation sliding just beneath his skin with the same delicate precision as a surgeon’s scalpel. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly. Beatrice steps so close that he can feel the heat coming off her body. Her hands brace on the back of the chair and she leans down, lips ghosting near his own and tempting him to surge forward and close the distance.

“And would you ever deny lust?”

The fact that he’s hard as a fucking rock is pretty difficult to overlook.

“I would deny lust if it came before me in any other form but yours.”

Her fingers fist in his short hair, nails dragging over his scalp as she pulls his head back. “You _liar_.”

He hisses through his teeth at the pain, wincing for show.

“Or was it not you who pinned the Prince to that very bed only nights ago?”

Oh, he had. And Beatrice had sat in this same chair, giving instructions in a low, sweet voice while Benedick rode Pedro before finally deigning to grace the two men with her presence.

Benedick’s nostrils flare as a breath shudders in his chest as she continues, relentless. “You’re worse than a whore. At least a whore takes money.” Beatrice drops her other hand, eyes flicking over his face as she takes his straining cock in hand. He knows she’s drinking in every tiny reaction that he can’t stop or hide. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, body arching minutely towards her touch as the restraints and chair creak. “But you — this is all someone like you wants. Isn’t it?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes, drunk on how close she is, how she knows exactly how to take him apart.

Beatrice doesn’t _have_ to demand a better answer from him. He catches his breath even as his dick throbs in her fist. “Yeah- yeah, more of that-”

She sighs again, and all of a sudden, her hand is _gone_ and Benedick can’t stop the whine that catches in his throat as Beatrice stands up, straightened out. “Please,” he says, straining against the restraints. “I want- _Fuck_ , Beatrice.”

“Mm,” she hums, reaching for the sash of her robe. One quick tug, and the knot comes undone. The red fabric parts, revealing the deep burgundy bra that barely contains her generous breasts. A pattern is stitched in black thread, and similarly dark lace lays against her skin in beautiful contrast. “What do you want, baby?”

Oh, he wants. He wants to pull her onto the bed and ravish her, worshiping every square inch of skin. He wants to map her curves with his hands as he slides down her body to those tempting little shorts. He wants to go down on her until her patience snaps, hips grinding up towards his willing, drool-slick mouth.

But more than any of that, he wants what _she_ wants.

“I want you. In whatever way you’ll let me have you.”

“A diplomatic answer,” she says, sliding the robe from her shoulders. “Safe and noncommittal.”

“But a truthful one.”

“Hm,” she hums again, pondering. “In whatever way-?”

His mouth is dry but he nods.

Beatrice turns, striding the short distance to their bed. She sits on the edge, opening the bedside table with one hand while the other presses down on her lap. She bites her own lip, breath hitching as her hips twitch towards the pressure, _wanting_ , and Benedick watches hungrily. When her eyes fix on him again, her pupils are wide, darkening her eyes. The bottle of lube is clutched in one hand, and the other deftly reaches behind her, unhooking the bra so that it can join the robe, forgotten on the floor.

“I don’t want to hear any complaints,” she says, leaning over him again.

He shakes his head. “Never,” he swears and _means it_ more than he has ever meant anything in his life.

A pop of the cap, and cold lube dribbles onto his dick. The cold catches him by surprise, and he gasps, trying to close his knees reflexively.

“Shh,” she says, carding a hand through his hair. “Be good for me, baby.”

With great effort, he stops straining, and she rewards him by moving the hand from his head down to his cock, stroking him slow and slick and _wonderful_.

He’s never been able to be quiet during sex. He doesn’t really see the appeal in keeping his partners from knowing exactly what they’re doing to him. “Hhhhah,” he moans. “Mm- Beatrice…”

“Oh, but I love those sounds of yours,” she purrs in his ear. “I want more.”

“Th- they are yours to take,” he manages to say.

“A generous gift.” Her lips flutter over his, a soft kiss that leaves him wanting _more_ before she pulls away again. Benedick watches as she slides to her knees, slowing her strokes until finally letting go of him altogether.

Benedick’s breath shudders, but he keeps himself from begging, trusting her to use him in a way that’s satisfying to them both.

He watches, entranced, as she tips the lube up over her chest, letting drops fall into the valley of her cleavage. Goosebumps prickle over her skin, nipples tightening as she shivers. She sidles closer, sitting up, her elbows on his parted thighs as she uses her hands to squeeze her breasts together around his dick.

It’s slick _hot_ tight and he throws his head back as she starts to move, using her hands to move up and down the shaft. A ragged noise tears out of him, and he thrashes without meaning to, wanting to buck into the warm vise she’s made for him.

“That’s it,” she says, ducking her head so her lips brush the tip of his cock with every teasing syllable. “You don’t need a cunt, a mouth, or even a hand to take your pleasure, do you? You could get off just rubbing against my chest.”

“Beatrice-!” He forces his head down to look at her, fingers gnarling on the arms of the chair.

His cockhead is red already, wet with precome. He’s mesmerized by the movements Beatrice is making, how she rises higher on her knees only to sink down again, stroking him with a movement that requires her full body.

“B- Beatrice, I-”

She looks up at him through her lashes, lips quirking into a smile. “Wanton slut.”

A shiver runs down the length of his spine before uncomfortably winding tightly in his balls. “I’m gonna- Gonna come, fuck, fff _fuck_ -”

He expects her to pull back, or take him in her mouth, or _something_ besides speeding her pace until he’s arching against the restraints, writhing and making broken, breathy noises before he can finally _finally_ come.

He feels immediately like he’s floating away. He sees the come on her tits and face, and while it’s _hot_ , he’s not in the right presence of mind to really enjoy it. “B- B- Bea-”

“Shh,” she murmurs, more kindly than she had earlier. The restraints come off his legs first, and Benedick bites back a weak noise as his muscles knot. Beatrice takes one calf in her hand, soothing the muscle with a deep massage before it can turn into a full-blown cramp. She repeats it with the other leg until Benedick is sinking down in the chair, luxuriating in her attention. When she frees his wrists, he wants to throw himself at her, but getting his limbs to cooperate is more than he’s capable of at the moment.

“I want to move you over to the bed. Okay?” Her fingers are soft on his arm, and he nods blearily. She helps him stand, an arm over her shoulders as she leads him to their bed. He rolls onto it and feels as though he could sink straight through to heaven on the other side.

Beatrice isn’t far behind him after wiping her face off with the tissues on the night stand. She curls alongside him, stocking-clad legs wrapping around his, her arms holding him tight. She rests her lips against his sweaty temple, alternating between kisses and praises. “You did so good for me. You were such a good boy.”

“Mmh,” he manages to articulate.

Disagreeing with her is pointless. She did all the work while he just sat there and teased her back and eventually came, but she doesn’t see it that way. Benedick doesn’t, either, when it’s his turn to strip control from her and tease her beyond reason.

“Dropping?”

“No,” he sighs, snuggling closer. He can feel her own arousal poking into his hip, but the second he lifts a hand to help, she grabs his hand with one of her own and returns him to resting. “Bossy,” he accuses with a slight smile.

She squeezes his hand and asks gently, “Is that a problem?”

“Not in the least.”

Their fingers stay threaded together for the better part of thirty minutes before Beatrice finally decides to let Benedick decide if he’s ready to come out of his subspace.

He rolls her on her back and kisses her like he needs the air from her lungs to live, feeling her at first tense before loosening up, allowing him to direct them for the moment.


End file.
